A Day In The Life of a Stubbly Troll

Archive for the ‘Craziness’ Category

The Fire

ImageImage

The Truck

People scared, the fire,
Unexpected, NO! Stop.
It will not stop. Whoosh.

The Actual Fire

At  2 a.m. I was settled in my bed, and  my daughter rushed into my room.  Mom, we need to call 911, there’s a truck, on fire, in the road!  I got to the window, people were scattering, running, scared. Why did they run?  Was it drugs,  a meth lab, afraid of the police that would come, or were they scared of an explosion?  We’ll never know.

It was going to be an eventful night.  Gas was pouring out of the tank in rivulets.  DD saw them trying to extinguish the fire with water, just made things worse.   A disaster in the making.

Daughter and I sat on the porch watching the fire wax and wane.  It wasn’t until about 20 minutes later, when first one, then another, then another police car arrived that the fire began in earnest.  Flames blossomed like the first blooms in spring.  Riotous fingers of flame leaped high into the night sky, free, playing with the oxygen they craved to keep themselves going.  They already had the food, and were devouring it greedily.

The police cars, with their lights flickering like shifty blue eyes, watching the maelstrom that was the truck, sat opposite us and waited.  Waited for what?  What could they do?  My daughter and I sat, on the porch, the morning hours creeping toward dawn, watching, hoping the fire forgot our house, and leave us alone.

What’s missing?  Oh yes, the firemen.  Where are they, we asked?  When will they be here, where are they now?  I thought of getting the car, driving away.  Wondering if I could get our animals all to safety.  I imagined the melee of the catching of the cats, the dogs had already whiffed our fear.  I couldn’t resist any longer, I called 911 again.  “Where are they?”, I cried.  “Our house, it will burn, and they are nowhere to be seen.”  “They are coming.”  It was a platitude.  He didn’t care.  “They’ll be there soon.”

We watched–thirty minutes after the first call, anxiously awaiting the fire department.  There was no one in the truck, no one to rescue.  So why hurry?  It’s just a truck.  A junker, probably.  Finally we saw them, hope springs eternal, yet sometimes is short lived.

But the strangest thing of all that night:

The Stranger

The stranger ambled

Up the road,

Quiet, without fear.

He looked at them,

Then slipped on by,

And not a word was said.

‘Was not too long,

The stranger’ s back,

Just a lad was he.

He looked at them,

Said not a word

And disappeared,

Into the night.

We sat on our porch, the fire between us and the “rescuers”, watching it in it’s majesty, then, as it tired, into mediocrity.  Watching the fire and the watchers, wondering why they even bothered.  As the fire sizzled down, the firemen took it’s heat and it’s oxygen.  They brought their foam and sprayed it, stopped the fire’s play.  Then they went to work.  They walked, they talked.  “Looks like it started here”, I heard one say.  I watched them hunch, listened to their mumbles, watched them with their backs turned, discussing the fire, in their fireman way.  I finally went in, when, the fire laughed at them as, finding a niche, some oxygen and heat, it started up again.

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Teaching Baby Sheets To Graze

Yes, you read it correctly, I said sheets.  And, as you know I talk a lot, so all will be explained.

For years, I’ve been yearning to go to our local paper and offer to proofread it.  How bad is it?  Let’s just say it adds humor to our week.  For instance, the title of one article was Dangerous Investigation of Accident………     Whoa, that must have been some kind of investigation.

Last week there was information about a grazing in a fairly near town.  It was about cows, goats, sheets, and other animals that I don’t remember.  Sheets just knocked the rest of them out of my head!

DD read it and I said , yeah, that’s the article you told me about the other day.  The one with sheets in it.

She wondered what the class was about.  I said it was to teach baby sheets to graze.  They are born unable to graze you know.   “So what are baby sheets?  Are they pillow cases?  You know, when you open the package of sheets, the pillowcases fall out?”  Because of her hand gestures, and the way her voice trailed off, I was ROTFL.  I laughed and laughed.  Then, my little girl kitten got in the act, stood up by my chair and looked at me, as only a kitten can.  That, of course, caused me to laugh harder, which caused her to look more perplexed, and pretty soon, tears were streaming down my face.

DS walked in while DD and I were laughing.  He was standing there tapping his foot, and pretending to time how long we laughed, which sent me into more peals of laughter, which just perplexed my kitten even more, etc.

We explained to him about the class for people to learn how to teach their baby sheets to graze.  His sister asked where the baby sheets were.  “They’re in the maternity ward, of course.”  More laughter.  Then she asked why he hadn’t put any baby sheets upstairs with her.  (He’s been putting extra bedding in stowage upstairs, in the other room).  “Because you shake them!  You can’t handle them.  Stop crying baby sheet, I can’t stand it–shake, shake, shake (while shaking a baby is NOT EVER acceptable, EVER, we do not feel that joking about shaking something that is not real is a problem.  We never have, or never would, shake a REAL baby, nor would we let someone else shake a baby. )

So, that is the story about the grazing class in our local newspaper.  I’ve thought, as I’ve said, often and long, about begging them to let me proofread their paper.  However, after learning that baby sheets need to be taught to graze, I think I’ve changed my mind…..